


Obedience

by Paltr



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Death Threats, Degradation, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Facials, Fainting, Femdom, Foot Fetish, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Small Penis, Sweat, Threats of Violence, Trans Female Character, Wet & Messy, caustic really needs to wash his hair its disgusting, piss swallowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paltr/pseuds/Paltr
Summary: “I could cut you open,” she purrs, fingers trailing along visibly pulsating veins, feeling a thrill rush through her at the raised redness scratched into his skin. “Even dying you’d still beg for my touch.”A fic for a trade with a good friend of mine!
Relationships: Caustic | Alexander Nox/Wattson | Natalie Paquette
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Obedience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tordarroch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tordarroch/gifts).



> Shoutout to [tordarroch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tordarroch/pseuds/tordarroch) for being so incredibly patient with me while I got this done! Love you homie <3  
> They wrote me a Caustic/Mirage fic, which can be found [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976137)

As Wattson steps into her private quarters and gets comfortable, her jacket is discarded to the side, an always-eager pet gathering it in sweaty palms. It’s smoothed out and hung by the door before he assumes his rightful place at his mistresses’ feet, knelt upon creaking knees, head bowed with only the utmost of respect. 

Words needn’t be exchanged—Caustic takes a heeled foot in hand, gently removing her shoes before setting them back down in his lap and _oh_ , the texture of her tights against his skin has his cock aching in its cage. He works deftly once her shoes are off, stubby fingers rubbing and kneading the tired muscles of her feet, slowly working the stress of the day from her body. 

“Good boy.” She teases the sensitive flesh of his thigh with a silk-clad foot, kneading at the meat of his thigh before trailing between his legs. A soft noise of satisfaction falls from painted lips and Caustic keens lowly beneath her, desperately trying not to lean into the lightest of touches his mistress provides. 

“I’m surprised such a _disappointing_ package could withstand such weight…” The feeling of her foot grazing his neglected cock pulls a whimper from his lips, but no sooner had she graced him with her touch does she steal it away, a snarl of disgust curling on her lips. 

“Well?” Wattson takes his chin in her hands, snarling down at him. Her eyes gleam as she stares him down and Caustic shrinks beneath her—“You know I’ve had a long day...and you’re the _perfect_ person to take it out on.” 

A foot plants firmly against Caustic’s chest, pressing into flesh as she pushes him back roughly, looming over his prone form from atop her throne.

“Be a good boy for me.” The words roll off her lips, and he gazes upon her with reverence even as she grinds her heel into the thick of his chest, deft fingers making quick work of her layers. Her fingers linger on the clasp of her bra, and the drool forming on Caustic’s lips makes her grin, toothy and unforgiving. A stubby tongue wets suddenly too-dry lips and his mouth falls open as Wattson’s bra falls to the floor, a soft noise of relief slipping from her lips as her breasts are freed. Her nipple piercings shimmer in the light, and she cups her tits with too-small hands, groaning audibly as her fingers knead into the soft flesh. 

“That feels so _good_ ,” she purrs softly, gazing down at her toy with lidded eyes, a flush rising to her cheeks. Her back arcs as she leans into her own touch, hips rocking as she pinches hardening nipples between her fingers. A needy groan escapes the lips of the man sprawled beneath her, hips rocking fruitlessly—Caustic’s cock is aching in its cage, desperate to seek relief from the relentless pressure welling within. 

“Oh? I think someone wants to make me feel better!” Wattsons’ upbeat tone has blood rushing to Caustics’ cheeks, eyes lidded as he nods—and a sharp gasp is torn from him as Wattson slaps him sharply suddenly on her knees atop him. Her nails dig into his skin as she grabs his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Do it, bitch.” 

Caustic scrambles from beneath her—he always was eager to please—and takes his place beside his mistresses’ throne, resting his weight upon weary knees as Wattson gets comfortable. She can _feel_ the excitement radiating from him in waves—thick and heady, the scent of his arousal sickening to her heightened senses. Wattson’s fingers tangle through his hair, matted and greasy against her skin as he descends upon her breast. The sensation makes her stomach churn but the proximity of such a _willing_ subject has her blood running hot, heart hammering in her chest—only at the last moment does she tug sharply at the grimy mess between her fingers, a pained gasp pulled from her toy as he stares at her with wide eyes, chest heaving. 

“ _Please_. As if I’d let a _worthless_ creature like you touch me.” Her sharpened fingernails scrape his scalp and Caustic whimpers in submission, tilting his head to the side, exposing the sensitive flesh of his neck and the visible throbbing of his pulse beneath sweat-shiny skin. She hums appreciatively, pulling her fingers from his hair—and she wipes the oily mess on her hands upon his face before trailing her touch to the exposed flesh. 

“I could cut you open,” she purrs, fingers trailing along visibly pulsating veins, feeling a thrill rush through her at the raised redness scratched into his skin. “Even dying you’d still beg for my touch.” Caustic nods eagerly, pressing her nails just a little harder against her skin—and he groans softly before her, hips stuttering forwards in a desperate bid for friction. 

“Good.” He finds himself shoved backwards roughly, scrambling to catch himself as he falls with an uncoordinated _thud_. Wattson glares down at him for a moment before pushing up her skirt—her cock lays half-hard against her thigh, giving a twitch of interest as she wraps her hand around it, stroking languidly. 

“I know what you want,” and her tone is almost sing-song before she leans back against her throne, spreading her legs before the stammering man beneath her, fingers digging into thick thighs as she bares herself. “Work for it. Give me a reason to even _consider_ letting your pathetic excuse for a cock near me.”

Caustic knows that despite her generosity his mistress isn’t one for patience, and scrambles forward eagerly on reddened hands and knees. It’s mere moments before he’s burying his face between those soft cheeks, hands clutching at the edge of her throne—he daren’t touch her, not in a manner uninvited. He’s all lips and tongue, kissing and licking eagerly at her ass, stretching her open on a thick, dextrous tongue. The taste of sweat on her skin drives him wild, the sound of her laboured pants and soft moans music to his ears. His breath is coming quick and hot against her skin, and in his enthusiasm it’s inevitable that Caustic’s lungs can’t keep up—he’s not as young as he used to be, after all, and a lifetime spent with chemical weaponry is showing the toll taken upon his body. He pants against her drool-slathered skin as he tongues the sweat from her, teasing and prodding at the pucker of her ass before pushing his way in.

“You always were so eager,” Wattson purrs softly, reaching down to tangle a hand through his hair—but she recoils almost immediately, exclaiming in disgust. He daren’t stop until ordered, but gazes up at his mistress with unfocused eyes that swim with lust. 

“Get up.” The bite to her voice is almost _p_ _alpable_ , and he’s visibly trembling as he follows her command—not from fear but arousal. Caustic’s cheeks are flushed, eyes disorientated and glassy, lips spit-slicked and swollen, parted as he pants greedily. 

“You really _are_ disgusting.” She sneers down at him, lips curled in disgust as her toy rises shakily to his feet, bare before her. He takes a step back as she stands—cheeks flushed and cock hard but so _gorgeous_ before him, all delicious curves and softly freckled skin. Her hand comes up to his cheek and her skin shimmers in the low light, the grime of hair many days unwashed glistening as she smears it across his skin. 

"Keep your _mess_ to yourself." Despite their height difference Caustic feels small before her, and watches as Wattson disappears deeper into the house, only following when summoned. 

"Well?" She stares up at him expectantly from atop a plush bed, legs spread wide and cock drooling against her stomach, "put that mouth of yours to good use." Caustic doesn't require further instruction—drops to his knees before his mistress, burying his face against her once more. His hands pull her cheeks apart as he eagerly kisses and laps at his mistresses’ ass, tongue lathing hungrily over the tight pucker of her hole—and it pushes in past the ring of muscle, drool smearing obscenely over his face. 

“You wanted this, didn’t you? I’ve seen you touching yourself, practically _begging_ for my attention…” A soft moan is pulled from the man beneath her as Wattson weaves her fingers through that greasy mop of hair, forcing Caustics’ face closer against her, legs wrapping around his head. Drool starts to trickle down her ass, pooling on the bed beneath her—and when Caustic tries to pull away she doesn’t let him go, instead tightening the grip of her legs around him. 

“To think that you’d die between my thighs,” and she clenches them, a strained whimper gracing her ears as the man beneath her struggles, fingers digging bluntly into the flesh of her ass, “a privilege deserving of a mere _worm_.” In that moment, she releases him—and Caustic pulls back gasping and spluttering, lips swollen and face smeared in drool, coughing and panting with a messy, open mouth. 

“Thank you, mistress, thank you.” He gazes up at her with glassy, unfocused eyes as he struggles to catch his breath, a hand grasping at his chest—and she pulls him back in by the hair, satisfied with the thanks of her toy. It doesn’t take long for him to begin struggling between her thighs once again, but despite these protests his tongue doesn’t falter—only once he starts to resist her hold does the quality of his focus diminish, blunted nails clawing against her ass as he scrabbles to escape. 

“Oh, you’re not going _anywhere_ until I say so!” The words she says barely process—his chest is _burning_ , thoughts no longer cohesive as he struggles against her hold in a desperate last attempt to breathe but it’s just so much, it’s too much—

* * *

The first thing Caustic feels is _pain_ , head throbbing and lungs burning, the light illuminating the room just a touch too bright for comfort. Despite this, he’s comfortable—plush carpeting is a rare gift, soft against his bruised skin and cushioning aching joints. This room is unfamiliar once he wills his eyes to open—and it’s there that he finds his mistress upon a well-dressed bed, idly stroking her half-hard cock as she watches him return to consciousness. 

“About time you woke up.” Wattson’s voice is a low purr that sends shivers down his spine, and with a head bowed in submission the sound of her heels slowly approaching is the only warning he gets before fingers are tangled in his greasy hair. 

“I have use for you.” His head is raised with force, lips slightly parted—his mistresses’ cock slips between them with well-practiced ease, and she barely waits for him to come fully to his senses before fucking into his mouth. Her thrusts are deep but measured, precise—and he relaxes his throat as he’s done oh so many times before, sucking eagerly at her despite the jostling of his head leaving it pounding. Cheeks hollowed and tongue working at Wattsons’ cock, he gazes up at her with a bleary, disorientated gaze that pulls a soft groan from the back of her throat, hips twitching needily into his mouth. 

“Good boy…” Caustic _keens_ beneath her, oh so eager to please even as a particularly sharp thrust has him pulling away, coughing and gasping for breath as he fights back his gag reflex—but Wattson doesn’t afford him such niceties, holding him flush against her hips as drool spills down his chin, slick and messy as it pools in his lap. 

“Disgusting _pig_ ,” she grunts, gripping him with force, both hands tangled in his greasy mess of hair, “you think you _deserve_ my seed?” Caustic gags on her cock but doesn’t stop bobbing his head, gazing up at her with glassy eyes, tears streaming down pockmarked cheeks—and it’s all she can do to pull back from his spit-swollen lips before her cum paints his skin, improving immensely her toys’ greasy, sweaty complexion. Her hips twitch eagerly as she milks herself dry, eyes glassy and lidded as she regains her composure, languidly stroking her softening cock as Caustic whimpers needily below her. 

“It suits you,” Wattson croons, watching as her cum drools down his face, creating a disgusting mess of her favourite toy. Drool trickles from the corner of Caustics’ mouth and she chuckles lowly, sparing his pathetic cock a glance—and _oh_ , he’s in pain, hips shifting as he bites back noises of clear discomfort. A hand that was tangled in the mans’ hair tucks a stray strand back behind his ear, drawing his attention. 

“Clean me up, _boy_. Fix the mess you’ve made.” She doesn’t fuck his face, not this time—he takes her half-hard cock between his lips willingly, swirling a dextrous tongue around the head of her cock. He takes his time with this gift—tastes each and every inch of skin, eagerly swallowing down any mess as it mixes with his own excess saliva. Fists balled against his thighs, Wattson rolls her hips gently into his mouth, fingers toying with his oily locks.

“Good boy,” she croons, the hum of appreciation around her now soft cock bringing a smirk to her lips, “I think you deserve a reward.” Caustic makes a soft noise of recognition, redoubling his efforts to please her even as his own cock aches between his legs. Fingers tangle through his disgusting, messy hair and she pulls his face flush against her hips, groaning lewdly—she tips her head back as she lets herself go, piss spurting hotly into her awaiting pets’ mouth.

“Make sure you drink it all,” she purrs, and he splutters for a moment before regaining his composure, whimpering as he swallows it down greedily. 

“I knew you’d be good for _something_.” Caustic can _hear_ the pleasure in her voice as he eagerly swallows her down, suckling at her cock, desperate for more. “Such an obedient little piss slut… Good boy.” He takes what feels like an almost unending flood of piss before the stream _finally_ abates, a stray drop of piss drooling from the corner of his mouth as his mistress releases him from her grasp, allowing him the liberty of breath. As he falls forward and catches himself on trembling arms, gasping and coughing as he struggles for breath, Wattson shakes the last droplets of piss from her cock, letting them splatter across the back of the man beneath her. 

“Such a well-behaved toy… I think you deserve something _more_.”


End file.
